


Bandages

by klutzysurgeon



Category: One Piece
Genre: Banter, Dressrosa Arc, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11784825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzysurgeon/pseuds/klutzysurgeon
Summary: Blue Gilly doesn’t say anything else, working diligently with practiced ease and Ideo can’t help but scoff at the gesture, uncertain of what else to do. “What, are you my nurse now?”In the three days between the end of the battle and the formation of the XXX Gym Martial Arts Alliance, Blue Gilly pursues an interest.





	1. patching up

Learning how to treat injuries is a necessity as a fighter.

Blue Gilly holds this belief in high regard— after all, what good is an injured fighter? What’s the merit to any battle if you’re too wounded to give it your all? In his eyes, there isn’t any. So though he isn’t a doctor, he’s picked up his fair share of medical trade in his lifetime. Sometimes a doctor isn’t always available, and some things are too minor to trifle them with. Any respectable fighter should know how to patch themselves up, at the very least, even if his stitches aren’t the neatest.

Which is why, watching that damned Longarm fumble with a pack of gauze like he’s never touched one before in his life, he ends up marching over to him before he’s even thought through the action, simple indignation driving him forward. He doesn’t say anything as he snatches the gauze away, grabbing Ideo’s arm and peering at the wound.

“And just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Longleg?” Ideo growls, yanking his arm away. Blue Gilly glares at him, kneeling before where he’s sat and digging out his bottle of medicinal alcohol. There’s not much left but it should be fine for this, enough to pour over the wound and leave Ideo hissing, aiming a swipe at his head that he barely dodges in time.

“It’s rubbing alcohol, you dumbass,” Blue Gilly mutters, picking up the gauze again and untangling the parts Ideo had gotten mixed up. “Shut up before I leave you to get an infection. Wouldn’t that be funny, a Longarm missing an arm?”

He’s formed another fist when slender fingers grab at his wrist, forcefully turning his arm over to look at the wound. Ideo clenches his fist tighter but allows it, watching as Blue Gilly starts the wrappings above the wound itself, covering perfectly fine skin.

Well, none of his skin qualifies as _perfectly fine_ after this battle, he supposes, scratches and scrapes littered everywhere from the fighting and falls and harsh stones cutting jaggedly into him but none of that is severe enough to merit a bandage— the Longleg does the same at the bottom of the wound, looking like he knows what he’s doing, threads of gauze overlapping snugly.

Blue Gilly doesn’t say anything else, working diligently with practiced ease and Ideo can’t help but scoff at the gesture, uncertain of what else to do. “What, are you my nurse now?”

“No, just doing what you should know how to do. Have you never seen a bandage before in your life?”

“I suppose I just haven’t gotten injured as much as _weaklings_ might,” Ideo huffs, tugging his arm away as soon as Blue Gilly finishes bandaging it. “Where did you learn to do such a thing anyway? You bandaged half my arm when the injury was miniscule.”

“If you start the bandage directly over the wound, you’ll have the edge of the wrappings rubbing against the open wound and agitating it.” The information is purely factual in its recitation and Ideo blinks, registering it. It… makes sense. “Oh? Even you get it, hm?” Blue Gilly mocks, seeing his expression change.

“As if I didn’t already know that,” Ideo growls. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

Blue Gilly stares at him for a moment before he stands, towering over where Ideo sits. “I’m sure you would have figured it out _eventually_ ,” Blue Gilly agrees, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Are all Longarms so stubborn? For a tribe that supposedly takes pride in their arms, they’re severely lacking in gratitude regarding them. “And now if you have any other wounds that need dressing, you know how. Congratulations.”

The sarcastic tone has Ideo aiming another punch but the Longleg easily sidesteps it, the motion fluid and almost like dancing. He wonders which of them would win in an all-out fight, but maybe now isn’t the best time to find out, both injured and surrounded by the rubble of what was no less than a war. “Mind your own business next time,” Ideo says instead.

Blue Gilly doesn’t answer though his expression is hard to read, blue eyes staring almost appraisingly at him. He must come to _some_ sort of conclusion because he shifts, chuckling as he moves to leave.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

 

* * *

 

Being able to read your opponent is an absolute necessity if you expect to win your fights.

Despite what many may think, Ideo does not, has not, _cannot_ rely on sheer brute strength alone. He’s no Military man, never has been and never will be, but tactics and strategy are half of the battle and he isn’t willing to give up any edge in a fight.

That isn’t to say he’s one for methodical strategies— nor has he ever considered fleeing as a viable tactic— but being a step or two ahead of your opponent is always a good thing, being able to predict what they’ll do based on how they act, what muscles they tense, where their eyes flicker. People are such damnably predictable creatures.

Which is what makes him think, more than ever, that the Longleg tribe truly isn’t human. They’ve been in close quarters for most of the day, as has almost everyone that assisted the Strawhat. They’ve all got a lot of questions, a lot of concerns and a lot to do though they’ve left him alone for now, each of them realizing that the boy must be exhausted from the close fight.

Ideo has never seen or felt so much Conqueror's Haki, thick and dark in the skies as those two fought. Monkey D. Luffy truly could be the man that will become King of the Pirates and he’s alright with that idea. It isn’t as though he was trying to claim the title for himself after all, and that boy has more than earned his respect.

Maybe his admiration, too. His will is immeasurably strong, and his leadership is unquestionable even if his attitude can seem irresponsible or childish at first glance. There’s something in his eyes that tells you he’s seen hell, touched it with his own two hands, and looking at the rubble they’re all surrounded by, Ideo believes it.

He’s fought many battles, but never a war. Not like this.

Now they try and sort through the aftermath, dividing up supplies and space and clearing away enough of the mess to rest safely. Tomorrow, the town will begin repairs. Tonight, they celebrate, heal, rest, rejoice and recover and Ideo is content to join them at the campsite the others had set up. Most of those who had allied with Luffy are sticking together, but that includes the Longleg and Ideo finds himself drawn more and more to staring at the blue-haired man.

He can’t figure Blue Gilly out and it’s _pissing him off._ The bandage rests snugly on his arm and he almost wants to rip it off out of agitation, wants to rip _all_ of them off because he _had_ followed that damn method and it worked. It worked well and it irritates him. Aren’t they enemies in the first place? They worked together temporarily for Luffy, but that battle is over. The destruction around them is proof.

“Do you always glare off into the distance or is that just your face? I can’t tell.”

Ideo jolts into alertness, his fighting stance an immediate and instinctive response before he realizes it’s only Blue Gilly, staring at him with blatant amusement. “Hm, good to know you aren’t entirely spaced out. Aren’t you going to eat?”

It takes a moment or two for Ideo to decide to let the comment go— fighting amongst the survivors on a night they’ve dedicated to celebrating and recovering would be tasteless, no matter how much the Longleg is clearly provoking him. And when did he become _only_ Blue Gilly, anyway? “I’ll eat whenever I feel like it.”

Without so much as a request, Blue Gilly settles down on the particularly large rock Ideo had been sitting on, shoving a plate at him. It matches the one he’s holding, some sort of rice and stew on it. “Well, you’d better _feel like it_ before that gets cold. The people made food for all of us — I hear the Strawhat’s chef was helping, too.”

His tone is overly casual and Ideo is left glaring, both at the man before him and the offered plate. “What kind of fool would take food from a stranger?” Ideo growls.

“Ah, yes. You caught me.” Blue Gilly’s tone is utterly flat, eyes lidded boredly. “After everything that’s happened today, I’ve decided poisoning you is how I want to celebrate.” He sighs, setting it down on the stone. “You don’t have to be so hostile. We fought together, didn’t we?”

Ideo stares down at the plate, mulling it over for a moment before he takes it and sits. “That was just out of necessity to help the Strawhats and repay my debt.” Even so, he takes a bite of the still-warm food, flavor overflowing. Their chef really must be something, though with that boy, he isn’t surprised.

“True, it was out of necessity, but it wasn’t awful. You aren’t a bad fighter.”

The offhand comment catches him off guard, pausing with his spoon halfway to his mouth. The whole situation is strange— sharing a meal with a Longleg, surrounded by the rubble of a civil war, and to top it all off he’s being complimented now? “Of course not,” Ideo scoffs. “My strength isn’t merely for show.”

Blue Gilly says nothing at that, opting to eat his meat in silence. It doesn’t feel particularly awkward, but he isn’t leaving either and Ideo glances at him a handful of minutes later, though he keeps his gaze straight. “I wouldn’t call you weak either, though you scream like a girl.”

He’s surprised when Blue Gilly laughs, looking over to see a genuine smile flashed at him. “I didn’t expect to get a compliment out of you.”

“It isn’t a _compliment_ ,” Ideo mutters. “A mere statement of fact. You’re still nowhere near my level.”

“Coming from you, it seems like a compliment.” Blue Gilly smiles slyly, tone lightly mocking. “And as if you could kick half as hard as me.”

“Hmph, kicks. All you lot are good for. I’d be surprised if you even know how to throw a proper punch.”

“Why don’t we find out someday?” Blue Gilly offers. “A sparring match sounds fun.”

A sparring match…? It could be interesting, he supposes. He’s rarely fought someone from the Longleg tribe; though animosity between their tribes typically runs deep, he’s never gotten very involved in it.

But he isn’t one to turn down a test of strength, either. “Don’t cry when you lose— I won’t hold back.”

That grin is back, though it’s sharper this time, a competitive glint in those bright blue eyes. “Same to you, Longarm. Show me what you can really do.”

Ideo finds himself smirking back, fierce and toothy. That’s something he can look forward to, at least, something other than repairs that will surely start tomorrow. The silence that follows is easy, and the food is filling. The campsite later that night is as uncomfortable as he’d expected it to be but sheer exhaustion from the day has him out the second he lays his head down, body sore and battered.

His night is dreamless, though his last thought before sleep takes him is that his bandages will need to be changed in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame dev.


	2. compliments

If Ideo never has to look at another rock in his life, it will be too soon.

Oh, he doesn’t mind helping fix the city, per se. He feels it’s part of his duty to lend a hand with repairs after how much he helped destroy it during the fighting. It was a necessity at the time, but people still have to live here in the aftermath and it would be too cruel to leave the citizens without any aid. Besides that, they’re all still waiting for Strawhat to recover and set out, so they haven’t got much else to do in the meantime.

Everyone is pitching in, too, from normal citizens to the Colosseum fighters to Kings, Elizabello and Riku both. Even that Longleg is helping, mostly pitching in for necessary demolition. Ideo himself has helped with the demolition but primarily been needed for hauling, his strength useful for carrying lumber and other materials where it needs to be and clearing away spaces for renovation and rebuilding.

Clearing the rubble is easy. Finding bodies is the worst part of it. None of the fighters are strangers to death and he doubts that any of their hands are clean of it either, but there’s something different about this. A war isn’t like a battle. There was no honor in this, in people _( children )_ trying to flee their homes.

Still, he works for as long as he’s able, until his body is protesting and he needs the break, settling down on a particularly inviting patch of grass. He’s barely had a moment to close his eyes before there’s noise and someone’s footsteps trampling the grass nearby. “You eaten yet?”

Ideo looks up to see the blonde Strawhat standing above him, several bowls balanced on one arm and he startles into a sitting position. “You,” he starts, before realizing he doesn’t know the man’s name. “...I haven’t eaten yet,” he decides to say instead. “Not since breakfast, at least. You’re the Strawhat’s chef, aren’t you?”

“Sanji, and that I am. You need to eat,” Sanji announces, handing a bowl down without so much as jostling the others. “Leave the bowl wherever when you’re done, I’ve got people collecting them. Don’t forget dinner later!”

The last part is shouted over his shoulder, the chef already headed off to presumably find the next person to feed. Ideo can only stare after him with a mix of confusion, gratitude and admiration. Sanji is certainly loyal to his career if he’s this determined to feed a country full of people he doesn’t even know, and that sort of person speaks volumes for the crew as a whole, for the Captain as a person. He had no doubts about pledging his loyalty to Luffy but this reinforces his decision, if nothing else.

When it’s time to leave, he’ll have to find a way to show his gratitude properly. And when he does depart, he has an endless amount of training to do to try and even come close to the levels he now knows exist.

For now, the soup is warm and he allows himself this break.

 

* * *

 

Blue Gilly is _sore._

He’s used to long hours and harsh training and pushing his body to the limits, but the fight was taxing and his injuries haven’t recovered and the citizens seem quite content with using him as a human excavator to break apart rubble. If that stone bastard weren’t already defeated, he’d kick him into the ocean himself for making such a mess of things. “Ridiculous,” Blue Gilly huffs to himself. “Really! We’re nice enough to offer to help and they’re overusing us.”

“You offered, so quit complaining.”

The voice startles him, whipping around only to see the Longarm standing before him, a bowl in his hand and an expression that’s _almost_ a scowl on his face. “I can complain and work at the same time,” Blue Gilly mutters. “What about you? Taking a break? I can understand if you’re tired, you did get beat pretty badly.”

Ideo’s expression turns into a definite scowl at his teasing words, the man clearly biting back a retort as he holds out a plate. “A dinner break. Only an idiot would skip meals. Any _decent_ fighter should know better.”

Blue Gilly stares idly at the offered plate but he takes it nonetheless, weighing his options. The Longarm is borderline hostile but still, it’s a kind gesture, room to work with. “...Thank you,” Blue Gilly says. Ideo’s shocked gaze is more than worth it, eyes widening and stretching the black marks around them. He can’t help but wonder what those are— genetic? Makeup? Tattoos?

“...Just repaying the favor,” Ideo gruffly mumbles. “Strawhat still hasn’t woken up, so it looks like we’ll be here another day.”

Blue Gilly hums an acknowledgement, settling down on the grass with his food. Ideo stands for a few moments before following suite, sitting down as well and giving a curious stare at his sitting position, legs tucked under and to the side of him. Ideo says nothing about it, digging into his food and pointedly staring away but Blue Gilly only chuckles, shifting slightly. “I sit like this because it’s more convenient.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

“I know,” Blue Gilly grins. “I just thought I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t expect the conversation to go anywhere from there, content to eat in silence. He’s halfway through his curry before Ideo speaks, glancing at him again. “It’s the same for my arms,” he says, shrugging them as if in example. The fabric moves when he does, stretching easily, as do the bandages on his arms. “They’re useful in battle but easily in the way other times. We adapt.”

“Is that all?” Blue Gilly stares at the black jacket covering them. “I thought maybe you were trying to hide them.”

“Ah, yes. Because they’re very well hidden like this.” Ideo’s dry tone is more amused than scathing, shaking his head. “There isn’t much way to hide them.”

The comment is lighthearted enough but it has Blue Gilly staring down at his lap, legs tucked to the side and he finds himself responding in a too-serious tone before he can help it, “Yeah, there really isn’t.”

The silence hangs between them and Blue Gilly curses himself for it, half-choking himself with his food if only for the distraction. There’s one thing to be said for trying to make a friend, but it’s an entirely different matter to let your guard drop so much that stupid things slip out. He doesn’t look at Ideo, hoping he won’t read too much into it but—

“You _are_ strong, aren’t you?”

The question catches him off guard. It doesn’t sound like a taunt. It’s certainly not the one he was expecting. Blue Gilly turns his head to meet the stare he’s being given, those brown eyes unreadable. Unsurprising, from a fighter of Ideo’s stance. “I am.”

“Then you’ve no need to hide,” Ideo says as if that settles the matter. “I like to keep my strength hidden to surprise my enemies. Tactics are as much a part of battle as brute strength. But that’s the only reason now.” _Now,_ he says, lingering on the word like it’s important and Blue Gilly understands why it is. “Strength is hard won. You’re not enough of an idiot or a coward to hide that away.”

The words settle in, a moment or two passing as Blue Gilly can only stare. The grin that breaks on his face is involuntary but wholly welcome, uncomfortable mood chased away nearly instantly. “Do all Longarms not know how to properly compliment someone, or is it just you?”

Ideo scowls, standing with an empty plate and a huffed tone that isn’t nearly hostile enough for Blue Gilly to believe he’s actually mad. “Are all Longlegs so overly friendly, or is it just you?” he retorts.

“Actually, it’s just you,” Blue Gilly slyly drawls, looking up and enjoying the flicker of emotion on that stern face. “Thanks for the food.”

“...Thank the chef, not me,” Ideo mutters, walking off without so much as a glance behind him. When Blue Gilly thinks he’s out of range he laughs, laying back on the grass with his own empty plate beside him. What an interesting person, he thinks.

The bandages on Ideo’s arms looked snug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blame dev again, and also my 4:30am life crisis about how much I like these two.


End file.
